


hang a shining star upon the highest bow

by flibbertygigget



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Eldritch, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: A Christmas market, a present, and the promise of a better year ahead.Written for go-events' OTP Prompts Event. Prompt: Person A and Person B walking through town, holding hands while it snows.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: Good Omens OTP Prompts Event Works





	hang a shining star upon the highest bow

_ Someday soon we all will be together, if the fates allow. _ _   
_ _ Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow. _ _   
_ _ So have yourself a merry little Christmas now. _ _   
_ _ \- “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” as sung by Judy Garland _

The streets of Dresden were far more deserted than they usually were in mid-December. There were no Christmas markets this year, no giant Christmas pyramid, no nutcrackers, no stalls selling gingerbread and hot cocoa. Even the long stretch that would have housed the Striezelmarkt, from the train station up the Albertplatz to Altmarkt Square, was abandoned that night.

Abandoned by humans, that is. Celestial and infernal entities were quite a different story.

“It’s a bit lonely, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said sadly.

“They’re doing what they have to, I suppose,” Crowley said doubtfully. “‘S just that they’re only human. Of course they bollocksed it up a bit.”

“Oh, I’m not questioning  _ that _ ,” Aziraphale said. “It’s just a bit lonely.” Crowley reached out and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. The angel looked over at him, his eyes so soft that it would have sent Crowley spitting if he’d noticed. The demon, on the other hand, was staring at the trees that had been put up in Altmarkt Square in spite of the unusually quiet season.

“Still,” Crowley said suddenly, “it’s all very picturesque, isn’t it? The trees, the lights, the snow. Humans pay a lot of money to see this sort of thing without the crowds.” Aziraphale gave him a thin smile and squeezed his hand back.

“Of course they do, my dear,” he said indulgently. He used his other hand to brush the snow from Crowley’s hair, eliciting a choked “ugck” from his partner. It was clear even in the low light that the demon was blushing horribly.

“Angel…” Crowley said. Aziraphale took his other hand as well.

“Come on,” the angel said. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Home was the bookshop these days. Even Crowley couldn’t have told you when that had happened. Maybe it was sometime after he’d woken up in July to a world that wasn’t going back to normal any time soon. Maybe it was as early as last December, when he had taken up residence on the shelves often enough that Aziraphale's penchant for fairy lights had annoyed him.

No matter when the start of it had been, the end result was that, when Aziraphale had mentioned going home, Crowley hadn’t thought twice before transporting them to the bookshop with a simple demonic miracle.

“There,” said Aziraphale, “this is much better, isn’t it?” Crowley snorted. 

“It’s warmer, at least,” he said. Really, except for the bookshop being inside rather than outside and in London rather than Germany, there wasn’t that much of a difference. Both places were empty and far too festive, at least for Crowley’s taste.

“It’s a shame you didn’t come with me last year, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “The Striezelmarkt really is magnificent when the humans are able to have it in full swing.”

“I’m sure it is, angel,” Crowley said disinterestedly. “Really, though, I’m more interested in whatever wine you’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

“And what occasion would that be?” Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled, glanced over at the tree, and lit the fairy lights that adorned it with a thought.

“This, okay?” he said. With a twist of his hand, he brought a package wrapped in bright red paper out of the pocket universe he kept on his wrist. Really, having an entire pocket universe was the definition of overkill, but Crowley was nothing if not a flash bastard who liked a good bit of presentation. Besides, he liked having the souvenirs of his time with Aziraphale, carefully collected over the course of his long corporation, right there at his fingertips. It was like a slightly eldritch version of a wedding ring.

“Beloved,” Aziraphale said, “you know you didn’t have to get me anything. Especially not with the current restrictions.”

“Fuck the restrictions,” Crowley said, confident that the angel would know he didn’t mean it, not really. “Besides, I didn’t get it for you during the restrictions.” Aziraphale’s face went all tender and soft, which was the exact opposite of what Crowley had wanted to happen.

“How long have you been preventing yourself from giving me Christmas presents?” the angel asked. Crowley squirmed.

“Not  _ just _ Christmas presents,” he said, even though that made it worse. “And it wasn’t - It wasn’t as though I could get us caught by the bosses, you know!”

“Last Christmas was different.”

“Last Christmas was  _ weird, _ ” Crowley said. “It was, like, super weird. I couldn’t give you something like this, it would’ve just made it even more weird.”

“I understand,” Aziraphale said, and damn him he seemed to mean it. Crowley didn’t want to be understood. It was embarrassing.

“Anyways,” Crowley said, shoving the gift at Aziraphale, “here it is.” Aziraphale took the gift and unwrapped it with the greatest of care, as though it was something precious when there was no way the angel could have known what was there. “Just get on with it.”

“I find that the anticipation of something is just as sweet as the having,” Aziraphale said. Crowley rolled his eyes. Finally,  _ finally _ Aziraphale unwrapped the gift entirely.

The gift was beautiful in its simplicity. The six-pointed star was made of a light, un-lacquered wood. Intricate cutouts made the star look like a snowflake or a many-eyed angel. Aziraphale grinned as he took in the craftsmanship and care that had obviously gone into the star’s creation.

“You didn’t have anything for the top of the tree,” Crowley said. “Seemed alright.”

“I thought, my dear, that you had never been to the Striezelmarkt.”

“I hadn’t. I’d been to one of the smaller markets, though. Meant to give it to you last year, but, well,” Crowley shrugged, “it seemed a little weird.”

“It wouldn’t have been weird at all,” Aziraphale reassured him, “but I have to admit that I’m very glad you waited a year.”

“Yeah?”

“This year, it seems… appropriate. A little more guiding light.” Aziraphale dragged a chair over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the bookshop, stretching to place the star in its rightful place at the top. “There,” he said. “Hang a shining star upon the highest bow, just as the old song says.”

“I always hated that lyric change,” Crowley said. “Why would you turn one of the most beautifully pessimistic songs in the Christmas carol canon all cheesy?”

“We’ve certainly been muddling through it this year,” Aziraphale allowed, “though Heaven knows how. But I think we could use a little optimism at the moment.”

“Maybe,” Crowley said grudgingly. Aziraphale hopped down from the chair, giving Crowley a beatific smile.

“Now, my dear, I believe it’s time for me to give you my present,” he said. Crowley turned red. He mumbled something about the present thing not being transactionary, but Aziraphale ignored him. The angel stepped forward and cradled the demon’s cheek before pulling him down into a decidedly inhuman kiss.

Two beings like them, celestial and demonic, did not kiss like humans did, not really. It felt a little like waves crashing against the shore and a little like a full-body blush and a little like Atlas holding up the world. It was all-encompassing and overwhelming, and Crowley, for one, would never get tired of it. He squirmed against Aziraphale, allowing his soul to slip halfway out of his body. The mingling of spirits burned a little, but it was a good kind of burn.

As the snow that rarely graced London fell softly outside, angel and demon kissed and caved and mingled as one.


End file.
